


Trust Fall

by HissHex



Series: NaNoWriMo 2020 - A TMA Collection [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Child Neglect, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Peter will live hes a big boi and a powerful avatar, Serious Injuries, Simon is having none of the Lukas' nonsense, why did i not tag that earlier its the whole concept of the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27368683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HissHex/pseuds/HissHex
Summary: Anyone who knew him could tell you that Simon Fairchild was not the sort of man you would want looking after children.He is still pretty sure he could do better than the Lukas' though.Simon meets and hangs out with a confused 8 year-old Peter.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Series: NaNoWriMo 2020 - A TMA Collection [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995427
Comments: 34
Kudos: 116





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I may have more on the way for these two. I wanna write some stuff with Peter growing up I think. But it isnt in my NaNoWriMo schedule, so it can wait

Little Peter was lonely.

This wasn’t unusual. His parents paid no attention to him, his siblings were all too old or too young to play with him and the few members of the staff he became fond of were swiftly replaced.

It was a brisk spring morning, and Peter’s latest nanny had vanished the night before. No one had replaced her yet which meant Peter was free to spend his day however he liked until someone eventually thought about him.

He didn’t hold much hope of that happening.

He had turned eight only a few months prior, a dull occasion filled with expensive presents that he opened by himself in his room, alone, like usual. One of the gardeners that he had liked to talk to had snuck him a roughly made cloth cat that Peter had hidden under his bed like everything he didn’t want his parents to take from him.

The gardener didn’t last until the end of the day. He didn’t even make it off the grounds of the estate.

He pulled the cat out from under his bed every night, playing with its soft ears and mismatched eyes, hugging it close to his chest as he fell asleep.

He found it burning in the dining room three nights ago.

The only surprise he could muster was that it had lasted as long as it had. It wasn’t until he was safe in his room that Peter released the tight ball of grief, muffling his tears into a pillow. His nanny had caught him crying and had taken him to his parents, concerned. He had tried to pull away from her grip around his shoulders but she wouldn’t relent. Peter had hastily dried his tears on the way to his parents’ room, knowing that he would be punished for such a show of sentimentality.

He stood there under his mother’s glare as his nanny suggested that Peter might need friends, connections, that something might be wrong with the little boy.

She had been swiftly dismissed and Peter had spent the rest of the day in the dusty old attic amongst all the other things the Lukas family didn’t want.

The attic was nothing more than a swiftly fading ~~repressed~~ memory now as he poked the tip of his boot into a muddy puddle, the frozen surface cracking and crunching under the pressure. Peter walked on, past the gardens and the cemetery, past the trees that his younger siblings had carved their names into, desperate to be remembered.The rough tread of his boots skidded in the mud as he slid on the slight hill that led down to the lake. It took him a while, but eventually he clambered up a tree that sat so close to the water’s edge that he could see its roots running under the murky water.

It was peaceful up here, quiet and still as he looked out over the rippling surface of the lake. His eyes closed, embracing the solitude.

It was at this moment he felt the thick branch he was sitting on, shift slightly with the weight of another creature. He jerked away in alarm, closed eyes slamming open as he turned to look at the intruder of his peace.

The man who had seemed to drop in from nowhere, was old. Much older than uncle Nathaniel and he was the oldest person Peter knew. He didn’t seem worried about his light blue suit getting dirty as he settled down onto the tree branch.

“Now, I don’t believe we have met young man. You’ve definitely got the look of a Lukas though, so I’ll presume you arn’t a particularly unwise intruder.” The man laughed. Peter looked at him. The man looked back. Peter had never had to introduce himself to anyone before.

“Alright then, the good old Lukas silent treatment I see,” he let go of the branch, swaying slightly and Peter panicked that the man was going to fall off. He reached over, grabbing Peter’s hand from its firm hold on the branch he was sat on, giving him a firm handshake, “The name is Simon Fairchild. Now, I know you lot are not exactly fond of social interaction, but it is normally polite to give your own name at this point.”

He gave a quiet mumble of “Peter” which caused the man, Simon, to finally stop shaking his hand. Peter ripped his hand away to grip the branch again.

“Peter is it? Lovely, just lovely. You like the water Peter?” he said, nodding at the now still water of the lake.

“Mhm,” he just hummed a vague affirmative which unfortunately didn’t seem to dissuade the man from talking.

“Have you ever seen the ocean Peter?” Simon was searching his pockets for something as he talked, not holding onto the branch at all.

Peter shook his head, but realising that the man was no longer looking at him he just let out a quiet “no”, watching the man pull out a pocketwatch to check the time. Peter then proceeded to have a minor heart-attack as the man jumped off the branch. Visions of broken bones being blamed on him flashed before his eyes.

Laughter.

“Come on down Peter, I think its about time you headed home and I have the pleasure of a meeting with Nathaniel.” peter looked down to see Simon looking perfectly unharmed.

By the time he had scrambled down the tree, Simon had pulled an umbrella from somewhere and had put it up just in time for the first few splatters of rain to hit it.

Peter hadn’t realised how far the lake was from the house until he was forced to walk home with someone else rather than walking alone. Peter flushed a little as his tummy growled with hunger.

“You must have been out here all day lad. Now it has been quite some time since I was your age, but shouldn’t you have someone watching you?”

Peter shrugged.

“No-one cares as long as I’m home before dark.” he could hear air whistle through the man’s teeth, his jaw clenched.

“Well they should. You could have gotten hurt.” Simon looked down at Peter with a sad look in his eyes that looked wrong on a face so clearly used to excitement and joy. Peter had no response to that. He could have gotten hurt, and he would have had to drag himself back to the house just to be ignored by his parents and coldly patched up by whatever member of the staff was around at the time.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

Simon seemed to be able to sense his discomfort and switched topic, chattering about the sea and the sky and art and space and many other things Peter didn’t really understand. Simon’s strides were much longer than his own but the elderly man slowed for him, always making sure his umbrella covered Peter from the rain.

It was only once they got in view of the old house that Simon drew away slightly, finishing his lecture on why landscape art was clearly superior to portraits.

Peter wasn’t sure if he didn’t agree or he simply didn’t care.

Either way, Simon drew away and when Peter looked up at him curiously he gave the young boy a quick grin.

“Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble lad.”

The walk up to the house was spent in silence and as soon as Simon opened the door a maid appeared to hurry Peter away from Nathaniel’s guest.

Peter got one more glance of Simon before he was ushered towards his room. The man just stood there in the entrance hall, staring at him, brow furrowed as if in deep thought before he strode into Uncle Nathaniel's office.

  
  


Simon had known the Lukas family for as long as they had worshipped the Forsaken, all the way back to Mordechai. He had known, _in theory_ , that their children couldn’t be happy to create such cold and lonely adults, but Peter had broken the shrivelled remains of his heart. 

He might be a monster but he still had standards. Children didn’t need to be terrorised, they were already scared of almost everything, all of the time. He didn’t see the point. Wait a few years and you got a much richer, more complex fear. 

This was an excuse really. 

Peter reminded him of Mordechai before the man had been lost to the Forsaken completely. Curious and proud. Introvert ed for sure, but friendly enough to those he was close to. The young boy might not have a future in academia but he was a bright lad. 

If the Lukas’ got their way, they would crush what little personality the boy had by the time he reached adulthood. Simon had met a few of the younger members of the Lukas’ through the years, and at this point he could tell which of the children the family would just discard and which would have their isolation nurtured until most of the joy and life in them was sucked dry. Peter was definitely part of the latter group. If the boy hadn’t of been, Simon might have been tempted to snap the kid up for the Fairchilds. It would have ruffled some feathers but no one would have cared too much.  But he could tell the family had plans for Peter, and so he could do nothing for the poor lad. 

Simon had never been great with time, it was all meaningless in the grand scheme of things, but he was pretty sure the lad hadn’t grown much by the next time he saw him.  So it couldn’t have been too long.

H e had just left yet another boring meeting with Nathaniel when he literally stumbled into Peter, the young boy catching himself on the wall before could fall over.  The young Lukas heir’s  face was passive but his eyes were red and his face was wet. Simon  tugged him along with him as he walked. 

“What’s wrong Peter?” The boy’s voice was dull and emotionless as he spoke.

“My brother is gone.”

“Gone?” Simon felt his heart drop.

“Don’t know where. Mother says they were sent away. Diane says Mother and Father had them hurt.” Simon was vaguely aware of Diane being one of Peter’s two older sisters. He hoped she was just messing with the young boy, and that they had just sent the child away. He wasn’t sure he could face the idea of the Lukas’ murdering their young children. He didn’t know what to do. Any expectation of Peter opening up emotionally was laughable. They walked further down the hall before Simon stopped them suddenly. Eh might not be able or willing to do anything to fix the problems with the Lukas Family, but he could certainly make this one little boy a bit happier. He searched through his pockets for a scrap of paper and wrote down a location which he stuck to the door of Peter’s room as they passed it. 

“Do you remember our talk last time about whether you had seen the ocean or not? Would you like to?” Peter looked up curiously but nodded. 

Simon was aware this wasn’t wise. 

But screw it, you only live once (unless you are Jonah of course).

Simon laughed at the sensation of  free-fall that he loved so much, only just remembering to steady Peter when they eventually landed back on solid ground. Peter let out a little panicked squeak. 

“Where are we?”

“Dover, so we haven’t gone too far, don’t worry.”

Simon took a few steps and sat down on the stark white cliffs, gesturing Peter over to sit next to him. 

T hey didn’t talk about anything important. Simon asked about Peter’s schooling while Peter asked about Simon’s shipping company. They sat there for hours until the sun began to set and a black car rumbled up behind them. Simon sniffed in irritation. 

“Took them long enough. Well Peter this was a delight as usual. I’ll see you soon lad.”

The last thing Peter saw of Simon before he stepped into the chauffeured car, was Simon stepping straight off the cliff edge and vanishing into the cold sea air. 

  
  



	2. Simon & Peter 2 : Electric Boogaloo (Peter's 18th Birthday)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will never be done writing these two

Peter considered to himself, that really, he shouldn't have to hide at his own birthday party. He was sure that wasn't what people normally did.

Not that he ever been to a birthday party before.

N ot that  he had ever had one of his own.

But he was eighteen now, not only an adult, but a full avatar as well. Cousin Conrad was three years older than him and he hadn't managed it yet, hadn’t been taken down to the basement of Moorland House, hadn’t been shown the secrets of their family. 

Peter hated having to pretend not to feel smug about it  each time they met. 

Anyway, he was expected to meet with some of the other, older worshippers of the other fears and he didn't know why they insisted on this  charade when they  all  hated parties so much.

Whether he liked it or not, it was his birthday. He was off to go work on one of the Solus Shipping freighters in a few weeks time, his Uncle had said he had to work under someone else until he knew what he was doing well enough to captain his own Ship, and he was all dolled up in a suit for the party. A room full of strangers and he was pretty sure that what few family members had bothered to show up had also vanished into the depths of the old house within minutes of arriving.  


He was in one of the smaller lounges that split off from the main hall where the party was taking place. He had a plate stacked with as much as he could get his hands on from the buffet table and an entire tray of the glasses of champagne and he intended to spend the rest of the night eating and drinking and avoiding people while he watched the rain lash down outside.

As per usual on his birthday. He never got what he wanted.

The door creaked open and a familiar laugh drifted through the door.  


"Hello Peter, thought I might find you in one of these little rooms."  


Peter rested his head so it rested on the back of the sofa, his floppy blond fringe, already greying at the temples, shifting away from his eyes so he could see the only person other that himself he could really stand.  


"Hello Simon. It's almost like you knew I'd find this whole thing unbearable" Simon laughed and collapsed onto the sofa next to him. 

"Yes well, it's a tradition in your family, as you know. Anyway, I don't usually get to see you on your actual birthday, locked away in your room as you usually are. Was looking forward to introducing you to some of the more interesting members of our little community."

"That sounds horrific. I’d rather not. And you'll see even less of me soon enough." Simon had laughed at his comment at first but grew a little more sombre at the reminder that Peter would be off soon and while he could just appear on the ship, Simon didn’t want to actually hurt Peter’s chances of Captaining his own ship one day.

"Yes I heard from Nathaniel. Off to sea I hear! Are you sure you wouldn't like to come work on one of my ships? I can’t promise better pay but I can promise better company"

"Ha! No thank you. Very kind of you to offer Simon but I think a ship full of people who actually want to talk to me will send me right over the edge. And not in a way you’d find funny either."

They sat in comfortable silence, Simon kicking his feet up onto the priceless wooden table and Peter knew his mother would be furious when she found the scuff marks and that only made it funnier to Peter.

Eventually Simon reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a little package and pushing it into his hands. Peter was not sure how Simon seemed to always be able to fit anything he needed in his pockets, regardless of their size or how many items were supposedly in there. Peter had never asked, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear another discussion about how everything was just made up of space.

"I probably should have given this back to the Lukas's a long time ago, but better late than never I say." Peter fumbled with the wrapping paper before something small, made of wood and metal, tumbled out. Simon continued as Peter examined it.

"I won it off one of your ancestors a long time ago though for the life of me I can’t remember when. Anyway I think it's time it came back to you"

It was a beautiful whistle, old and a little scratched, but otherwise will looked after.

"It has its uses that I'm sure you'll find out by yourself"

Peter had never received a gift from his family that actually took into account the things he liked. Uncle Nathaniel only let him onto the ships because he was useless at anything else. Peter unravelled the leather twine and tied the ends around his neck.

He fought hard for his voice not to tremble as he thanked Simon.  
  
"oh it's no problem lad. Happy birthday"

Peter sat examining his gift as Simon sprung out of the chair. 

There was a small cough from behind him as Simon waited by the doorway.  


"I'll be in the main hall if you want me to make introductions. So try not to get too drunk on that champagne before you come out, I don’t trust Wright not to take advantage of you in that kind of state. He's the last man you want to sign an unread deal with."

With that, he left, leaving Peter to wonder over his gift. He blew gently into the mouthpiece and the fog in the room that was idling by his feet once Simon left, began to grow and swell around him. He tucked it under his shirt, took his plates back to his room for when he inevitably ran out of energy for the demands of social interaction and followed Simon back out into the main hall. 


	3. The Tundra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is finally the captain of his own ship and Simon comes to congratulate him.

Peter’s stern visage dropped as soon as he retreated into his cabin. Six years he’d worked on various Solus Shipping Freighters and His Uncle Nathaniel had finally agreed to let him Captain one of his own. And it was his. It had only just been built, its first maiden voyage would be with him as its captain. He couldn’t stop the grin that lit up his face. He’d wanted this for so long, ever since Simon had taken him out onto one of his own company’s ships. Simon was going to be unbearably proud of him and, for once, Peter didn’t dread the oncoming social interaction.

Peter hung up the whistle that Simon had given him so long ago on a little hook by the door. He had overseen his new crew coming aboard, each of them chatting and greeting each other. Peter would have to nip that in the bud quickly, the last thing he needed was for them to become friendly and form connections.

The sheer thought caused a look of disgust to flicker across his face for a moment. They would learn soon enough. Once he took them into his domain for the first time they would settle down. He had made his expectations for the crew simple enough, a note written for each of them in his cramped print. He knew they would ignore it for the most part, until the worst of them started to go missing. Once he got the remainder of his crew on board and behaving properly, any newcomers would fall in line soon enough.

He was dreading having to talk to his crew though. It was easy enough when he was crew himself, he could just ignore everyone but the captain, be so busy with work that no one had time to talk to him. Now, however, he had responsibilities, was expected to talk and instruct his crew. He would have to find himself a first mate, and quickly. Yes, all he needed was a first mate to do all the talking while he could stay in his cabin by himself. He would choose among the remaining crew, see which one of them suited his Patron the best.

  
  


He yawned, it had been a long day and as he lay back in his bed he was looking forward to resting. Peter closed his eyes. He felt a weight across his legs.

Peter sighed. He was happy to see the man he was pretty sure had just appeared in his locked cabin, but he had hoped for a little bit more of a rest before the over-excited elderly man showed up.

“Hello, Peter! How’s your first day?” Peter opened his eyes reluctantly, blearily peering into the dim room.

“Simon, you didn’t waste any time, did you? It’s been good, almost better than I was expecting. Avoided having to speak to the whole crew, your letter idea worked pretty well actually, so it has been very peaceful before you showed up.”

Simon just laughed as he patted Peter on the leg.

“Good, good! I’m glad you are settling in well. I know this is what you’ve been wanting, you’ll make a good Captain lad, though I still wish I could have tempted you over to ours. Not to be, a shame but I am sure you will enjoy yourself plenty. Your crew isn’t very… well they aren’t very lonely?”

“I found while recruiting that those who would be properly affected by my Patron wouldn’t choose to work out at sea, not seeing their loved ones for months at a time. No. I’ll do what I can with this lot, sacrifice the ones who don’t mesh well.”

Simon nodded, he’d had to do similar things with some of his own early ships. There was a clink of glass. Simon pulled out a bottle of scotch, pouring them both a glass.

“Well congratulations are in order I say. Well done Peter, I’m proud of you.”

  
  


Peter wasn’t sure, as he sipped on his drink, if the warmth in his chest was from his drink or Simon’s words. 


	4. Blood & Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lukas’s are upset with Peter over the failure of his ritual, Simon and Elias are displeased with their reaction.

That _fucking_ Archivist.

Peter coughed, wincing at the pain in his ribs and the blood that bubbled up between his lips.

Damn Eye bastards could never leave well enough alone could they? His ritual could have worked, it should have worked. All it took was one bitter old woman to ruin it.

It had cost _so much money_. 

It was by no means enough to really disrupt the families finances, but it was enough for them to notice, to be irritated. If he bothered to do the maths it would have only really been a few years worth of his allowance. It didn’t matter. He had wasted all that money and they were angry. 

He was always a disappointment, they had hoped he would be a good choice for the head of the family when he was young, the powers of their patron had come so naturally to him, but he just wasn’t quite good enough. A few scattered friendships, his relationship with James or Elias as he was now calling himself, a too cheery disposition. It all weighed on him as proof that he was useless, just like his uncle had said, over and over again as the men he had hired took their time making sure he was ‘ _properly regretful_ ’ for what had happened. 

Peter was lucky really. They didn’t really care. He had received his punishment and everyone would be back to ignoring him as per usual by the end of the week. If he lasted that long. Well, ok, now he knew he was being morbid, he had survived worse after all. 

He was aware that he was leaving smears of blood on the walls of the apartment hallway as he stumbled and dragged himself to the flat he sometimes shared with Elias. His on-again off-again husband wouldn’t be at home, it was the middle of the work day after all and Peter had dragged the fog of the Lonely around himself like a thick blanket,  enough to keep himself from Elias’s ever present gaze. His fingers were numb with cold and blood loss  as he fumbled with his keys. 

The apartment was cold, sterile. It wasn’t due to any real aesthetic reason, they were both simply not at home enough to both making any personal touches. A spark of hot pain lanced up his side and he fell into the wall, his teeth gritting as he dragged himself pitifully to the large black sofa that sat in the living room. 

He had never been so glad Elias had convinced him not to go with the white sofa, they would never have got the blood stains out of it. 

He slumped onto the leather with a huff as the impact winded him. Peter closed his eyes to block out the sunlight streaming in through the huge windows that took up the entirety of the eastern wall of the apartment. Exhaustion hit him quickly after that and he drifted off to sleep, arm still clutched around his chest protectively, unaware of the being stood at the window

Half-way across London, Elias Bouchard received a phone call.

“Why is Peter lying half dead in your apartment Elias?” He couldn’t be sure whether it was the words or the fact that Simon Fairchild sounded so serious, that made his blood chill. 

“What?!”

“Oh so it wasn’t you. Thank goodness, I was thinking of having to do something quite unfortunate.” The phone clicked off abruptly. 

“Wait. What?”

Simon really wished he had bothered to get a key for Peter’s new flat, he had always had one for all his other places, just made it easier, and these weren’t the sort of windows you could just keep cracked open ‘just in case’.  But Elias ‘liked his privacy’ which was the funniest joke the other man had ever made as far as Simon was concerned.  Multiple lifetimes with varying interests had lead him to have at least a passing knowledge of how to break open locks but it still took him far to long to get the door open. He could barely see Peter through the fog the other man had summoned around himself, but he could see the  blood pooling on the couch and dripping slowly onto the floor. The bright red a shock against the monochrome of the apartment. 

Simon waded through the mist, placing a nervous  pair of fingers to Peter's pulse. Alive, if weak. His presence probably wasn't helping matters, the Forsaken could heal Peter far faster than any vague attempt on his part to give him medical attention could ever provide. He couldn't just leave him though.  Couldn’t just abandon the young man he had seen grow from a scared little child to a depressed and irritable teenager to a proud and confident adult that had enough power to be able to attempt his own ritual,  even if it had been disrupted and failed so spectacularly. 

Simon had always been  so very  proud of him. 

He levered Peter up to slip his coat off him, throwing it in the sink with water and salt, might as well try and stop the blood staining the thing, god knows how fond Peter was of that coat. Blood had clotted and dried into his shirt and jumper and Simon ended up rummaging through the practically unused kitchen for scissors to cut them off him. Peter winced and shifted as he tried to gently pull the fabric away from his wounds. 

Wiping away the blood proved to be a trial all of its own, immediately flowing again each time he managed to  wash it away.  A palm to his lad’s forehead proved him to be burning up, by which he was starting to reach the same warmth as someone who hadn’t accepted the Forsaken into their heart, which was a startling difference in temperature.  He kept the floor to ceiling windows open and made a stiff breeze flow into the room. Far too cold for the average person but it should keep Peter at just the right level of corpse-like cold. He felt the skin under his fingers suddenly shift as Peter’s ribs snapped back into place. A disconcerting sensation but one that Simon was thankful for, knowing it meant that Peter was healing.  The fog was starting to fade, the most life-threatening of the injuries having fixed themselves. 

He knew the Lukas’s would be upset with Peter but this was a bit much surely? He had never wished so fervently that he had tried to persuade Peter over to the beautiful Vast when he was younger, before it became too late. He couldn’t imagine hurting any of his own protege’s, not like this, not even if they had truly disappointed him.  He was just about to consider dragging Peter into a cold bath when the front door of the apartment violently slammed open, crashing against the wall with an almighty bang. A panting and sweating Elias stood in the doorway, suit jacket hung over his arm,  eyes wide in alarm.

“What happened?”

  
  


E lias was panicking. He really wasn’t expecting to get a call from Simon on a Wednesday afternoon accusing him of attacking Peter. Apart from the mild hilarity of the thought of him being able to take down a man double his size and weight, he was also alarmed that he hadn’t noticed anything. He rushed out of his office, flying down the steps towards  the lobby of the Institute. A body slammed into his own, the form of his Archivist standing in front of him, faux concern and sharp interest glittering in her eyes as she stopped him. 

“Elias you seem to be in quite the hurry. Is there a problem?”

He pushed forward and grabbed her shirt

“Gertrude if I find this was you I will kill you myself. I didn’t do anything about you destroying his ritual but this is just unnecessary.” She frowned and he immediately was shown that she wasn’t the cause of Peter’s injuries. He pushed her to the side, her own surprise the only reason he was capable of doing such a thing. Elias stormed past, ignoring the calls of Gertrude and Rosie behind him. 

London was a miserable place to travel through if you were trying to get anywhere in a hurry. He had a car but the thought of using it to get home in any sort of reasonable time at this hour was laughable in this traffic so he pushed his way to the nearest tube station, something he normally only did when his car broke down or he was particularly hungry. There was nothing like being packed in with so many people for sucking up all their trauma. 

Right now all the people were getting on his very last nerve.

His jacket got caught on the door of the tube as he ran out and rather than stop he just pulled and pulled until the fabric ripped. Slinging it over his arm, he ran towards his rarely used flat, finding the door already unlocked he slammed it open. 

Fog curled around his feet, emanating from the figuring lying on the couch and staining it with his blood. Simon was sat next to him, a handful of fabric pressed against a wound on Peter’s side. 

“How is he? What happened?”

“I have no idea to be honest Elias. I thought it might be Gertrude but we both know he wouldn’t be alive if it was her”

“No it wasn’t her. I think it was the Lukas’s, probably Nathaniel organised it.”

“Oh dear. Yes I thought as much.” Simon said with an exasperated sigh that said a lot for how long he had been allied with the Lukas’s. 

Elias reached for the Eye to tell him how Peter was doing but it just pushed back against him, angry of him using his powers to help someone rather than just watching, observing. 

  
  


It took two days for Peter to wake up. the Forsaken protesting against their intrusive presence. Elias took time off work for the first time in a decade to watch over him. When his cold blue eyes eventually pried themselves open, it was to see Simon sat on the floor next to him, playing with something on his phone while he could hear Elias complaining down a phone to some poor employee. 

“S’mon?” he mumbled, the fog of the Lonely already trying to whisk him away, misty tendrils wrapping around him. 

“I’m here lad, don’t worry.”

“Hurts”

“I bet. Nathaniel? Conrad?” A shrug. 

“Th’ watched. All of ‘em. Hired people.”

“Didn’t even have the balls to it themselves I see.” This was spat angrily from over his shoulder by Elias. A familiar ringed hand came over the back of the sofa and stroked fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and rested in the company of his two favourite people. Not that he would ever tell Elias that, the man’s ego didn’t need the boost, he would get simply unbearable. He listened to their hushed talking before slipping back to sleep. 

  
  


The Lukas’s never knew that anyone found out what they did to Peter. They never linked the sinking of so many of their ships or the dropping of so many of their investments to that day. When a cousin that was brought before Court suddenly found a rush of evidence against him, well he should have been more careful. It wasn’t as if their longest allies would turn on them like that. They weren’t the type to keep in contact so if the hired men they had used went missing? Well that was none of their business. What happened to those men? Well Elias and Simon would never say, but the only one who was ever found was curled up crying at the top of Everest with his eyes clawed out. Peter stood at the stern of the Tundra, smiling as he watched one of the Fairchild’s ships pass his own as he pressed a kiss to his newest wedding ring. 


End file.
